On the in between, before another REEF blog, I decided to give everyone a window inside of my out-of-control brain for a moment, and let you guys have a look into my mini-notebook. I know that sounds awkward but like (many great writers including my professor Dorianne Laux and comedian Larry David) I carry around a mini-notebook for anything and everything I see on a day-to-day basis, just in case I want to use it later for a story or a poem.
So this tiny notebook (that I literally can put in my jean pocket if I don’t have a purse, that’s how manic I am about having it with me, maybe even more important then my debit cards or license) is almost full and this is the tribute blog to it. (Maybe sort of like a farewell concert).
The majority of the front of my mini-notebook was decorated on the flux between airports when going to visit my best friend, Sars Dion for spring break. As you can see it was appropriately named “Charlotte Lavatories” because that is what toilets are called in airports. How very polite of them, and how very perfect for this mini notebook. It has my finger, with chipped nail polish and all. A sun, a little Asian cartoon man with an Indian red dot on his forehead for the mixing of cultures in an airport (this drawing wasn’t meant to be offensive I’m just not exactly an immaculate drawer). It has eyes because I was really into this weird guru thing at the time. It has a fire and Polycarp because I was learning about that in my Old Testament Religion class at the time. G, and B1, and 18D Zone1 because that was my gates, and seat and zone. Some specs with attached eyebrows just for the fun of it. A little house with a purple roof because I was leaving home and random assorted shapes (including a 3-leaf-clover because I can never find 4-leaf ones and because I’m Irish, duh). I believe I wrote “Dear John” and lines like a book because I was reading that and hoping to see the movie (again) with Sars, which actually did happen. And then newly added about a month ago, the very bottom of the notebook says “Who are my favorite authors?” because when you graduate with a Creative Writing degree, THAT is what people want to know. It’s also wet because I’m careless with it and literally have taken it to the Great Barrier Reef on a boat, through the Niagra Falls wet part, and close by to water ways.
This side was decorated after spring-break. It’s got my parents in chairs, my mom has wacked out, druggie hair that spirals from her head like some chick on Charlie Brown and my dad has way more hair then he actually has. They’re both sitting. then there’s a train on tracks (in pink because i like that color) another sun, a raspberry because for a while I was writing with a sniffy pen I bought with Jess that smelled of Raspberries. It got overwhelming and had to be let go of, plus it ran out of ink so fast, and never would run out of smell. Then there’s just pure randomness; anzac cookies (these cookies Chris, Dan and Matt’s mom makes that are DE-LI-CIOUS, the words “straws amongst a nest” for a poem I tried to write about the Australian Swamphen, and then random squiggles because I enjoy doodling around things.
Now’s the REALLY exciting part, since you obviously didn’t already stop reading this blog….a little bit of what I’ve written in the notebook, to date, and randomly. I’ll try to remember where these thoughts came from, but I can’t promise anything.
- “buckled shoes=chastity belt” whatever that means
- “How come everyone has fake flowers?” My thoughts at my grandma’s grave in Gainsville. I now realize it’s so families don’t have to visit as often and keep up the maintenance of real flowers. REAL classy.
- “hot, tan, dread look guy” literally my description of a guy Sarah and I saw at Lake Wauburg one of my last days there. Ridiculous. However, I’m sure Sarah remembers them showing off by jumping off the highest dock. Silly.
- “Coins in the offering, it’s come to that” in ode to my father trying to give a coin roll in the offering basket at church. THIS folks, is when you know you’re old.
- “Octopuses=Octopods” I just thought it was unbelievable that this was the plural for Octopus.
- “Download the Crazy Heart Soundtrack” just a random “to-do”
- “attack, jump, launch, slap, fuck” <—what happens when you ask a boy for five words for a poem.
- “Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living” – Hunter S. Thompson in Gonzo. I always write down quotes from the books I’m reading.
- “where is that bitch at?” about Jess (one of my closest friends) being late to meet me at Starbucks. Yes, I write whatever I want in here.
- “Things that annoy me: people reading Sarah Palin’s novel, annoying stewardess voices, waking up at 3:45 am to shower, delaying a flight for routine maintenance” <— on our family trip to Buffalo
- “the ride on train of shame, the train home of shame” trying to figure out what Australian girls would call a “walk of shame” but via train.
- “the sound a woman makes when she remembers centuries of men-on a particular man” – Kate Llewellyn
- “I will drag us out of cupboards, expose us. Because we are personal dark burning flowers of madness-alive-alone together” – Colleen Burke. I sat for a few hours in an afternoon in the Sydney National Library reading Aussie women’s poetry. It was lovely. These were a few quotes from that.
- “A picture of a breast” – half moon, c-shape, horseshoe, and further things of me trying to describe it.
- “Hakka-NZ Tribal Rugby Warchant, look up”
- “you’re only 19-a half-man after puberty and yet the hairs on your chest sprout like milkweeds and your hair leaves grease in between my fingers and nails” – trying to establish a poem about a teenage boy with a cougar I guess. (Other things among that).
- “The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter-’tis the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.
- She looks thin, a little haughty, a little fuck you (something random)
- “There’s a type writer called “underwood,” SO much irony in that.
- A2 sticker, where we sat on a train
- and a note from Holly, “have u read this poem? yes-good! no-read it! -“Lessson” – Ellen Bryant Voigt
I guess that’s a snip it of what the mini-notebook has to say and a little bit of who I am expressed in a blog. It’s going to be put down to rest in a few after the final pages, and lucky enough for me, my lovely friend Holly brought me back a mini-journal from Hong Kong to start a new.